No Traveller Returns
by ShakespeareFreak
Summary: Velma Dinkley's life revolves around facts and logic. Every ghost, ghoul, or goblin she faces is merely a greedy criminal in a rubber mask. But when a real dead man shows up on her doorstep one rainy night, Velma is forced to face the idea that some questions may not have logical answers. Contains Spoilers for Scooby-Doo! and the Witch's Ghost.


**DISCLAIMER: **_Scooby-Doo_ and all related characters, settings, and events belong to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons and Warner Bros. Animation. This is a not-for-profit work. I am not making any money, nor am I attempting to negatively affect the market for any of the materials shown, or take proceeds from their creators, but rather to expand the fanbase and keep the pre-existing fanbase strong.

Some quotes from the film _Scooby-Doo! and the Witch's Ghost _are used.

**RATING: **T (for character death, some violence, some dark themes, minor coarse language, some suggestive adult themes, and possible ideologically sensitive material)

**SHIPS: **Velma Dinkley x Ben Ravencroft, Fred Jones x Daphne Blake

**CHARACTERS FEATURED: **Ben Ravencroft, Velma Dinkley, Daphne Blake, Fred Jones, Shaggy Rogers, Scooby-Doo, Thorn, Dusk, Luna, Sarah Ravencroft, various OCs

**SPOILER WARNING: **Contains Spoilers for _Scooby-Doo! and the Witch's Ghost_.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **This story is somewhat AU. In this first segment, I relate the events of the final scenes of _Scooby-Doo! and the Witch's Ghost_, with one small addition, which will affect some of the action in later chapters.

In addition, this story assumes that _Witch's Ghost_ is a separate canon from other "the-monster-is-real" films like _Zombie Island_, and therefore Sarah Ravencroft was the only true supernatural entity Mystery Inc. encountered.

I also changed a line of the Hex Girls' closing song, because it's always bugged me that they apparently don't know "wind" and "air" are the same element.

In my defense, _Scooby-Doo_ never had one solid canon to begin with.

The title is a quote from William Shakespeare's _Hamlet. _Hamlet's grim words about death as "the undiscover'd country, from whose bourn / No traveller returns" may seem pretty straightforward, but some Shakespeare aficionados have noticed irony in their placement in the play: when Hamlet speaks these lines, he has already seen his father's ghost, a "traveller" who did, in fact, return to the land of the living. The irony of these words, and the ensuing debate over the cause of this seeming discontinuity, fits neatly with the themes presented in this story of the finality of death, the possibility of resurrection, and the idea that sometimes there are more questions than there are answers.

* * *

**Prologue: Broken**

**October 23rd, 1999**

_"Earth, Water, Fire, and Air!_  
_We may look bad, _  
_But we don't care!_  
_We ride the wind, _  
_We feel the fire!_  
_To love the earth is our one desire._  
_To love the earth... IS OUR ONE DESIRE!" _

The cheers of the crowd filled the autumn night. Thorn called out, "Thank you Oakhaven! We love you all!" The cheering intensified. She yelled over the roar, "And a very special thanks to Mystery Inc.! Without them, none of this would have been possible! Let's give them a rockin' Oakhaven _THANK YOUUU!"_

Fred grinned and waved, his arm around Daphne. Daphne looked at him with the small, secret smile she reserved especially for him—the one that Velma knew meant _You don't know it yet, but someday we're going to be married—_before turning back out to flash a brilliant smile into the stage lights. Shaggy and Scooby mugged and blew kisses at the crowd, basking in the attention. Velma waved cheerfully, a wide grin plastered on her face.

As they walked offstage, Velma heard Thorn behind her. "And remember, we're releasing our first album this November, so be sure to pick up…" But she couldn't hear any more; Thorn's voice and the noise of the crowd faded into the loud, painful sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. The instant she was out of sight of the audience, the fake smile fell from her face. She felt like she was going to be sick. She ducked away from her friends, who were still busy congratulating each other, and ran into the deep shadows behind the stage, gasping in deep breaths of the crisp night air.

Her hands clenched into fists, the fingernails digging into her palms hard enough to hurt. Her vision blurred as hot tears welled in her eyes; saltwater splashed onto her glasses.

_Ben…_

It had all happened so fast. Thorn had read the spell, and the book's power began to drag Sarah Ravencroft, screaming, into it. Ben was yelling something indistinct as the globe of energy imprisoning him began to dissipate. But no one paid any attention; they were too busy watching in speechless awe as Sarah vanished into the book.

There was a loud popping noise above Velma's head, like logs in a fire. She looked up just in time to see a massive branch break off the burning tree she was standing under and fall directly towards her. She stood frozen as it fell. Time seemed to slow. She stared in wide-eyed horror, rooted to the spot—

_"VELMA!"_ Someone knocked her out of the way. They landed, painfully, in a jumble of arms and legs. An instant later, the flaming branch crashed to the ground in the very spot she'd been standing, showering the dirt with an explosion of red-hot sparks. _If that thing had hit me…_ She didn't want to think about it.

Her head spinning, she half sat up, looking around blearily to see which of her friends had saved her. _Fred, Shaggy, Daphne, Scooby…_ They were all just staring at her speechlessly. _Thorn?_ But Thorn was standing a few feet away, face pale and shocked. _Then who…?_

She looked down. Ben Ravencroft was lying on the ground beside her. The back of his jacket was flecked with tiny black burns—he'd thrown his arms protectively around her, shielding her from the embers. The knees of his pants were dirty, and his palms were scratched… she realized that when they'd hit the ground, he'd put his hands out to cushion the impact on her. He smiled at her, relief shining in his dark eyes.

And then relief had turned to terror as Sarah's bony fingers wrapped around his ankle. _"I WON'T GO BACK ALONE!" _she screeched. Ben scrabbled helplessly at the ground for a moment as she dragged him into the book with her, but to no avail… he was sucked up into the book, and it slammed shut with a deafening _BANG._

No one had had time to react. The whole thing—the falling branch, Ben's rescue, and his imprisonment in the book—had encompassed only a few seconds. Velma blinked, one hand still outstretched towards the book. She hadn't even realized she'd reached for Ben's hand as he was being pulled in.

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then another fiery branch fell onto the book. They all jumped, and Velma covered her face instinctively from the spray of embers. The hungry flames licked at the ancient, yellowed paper for a moment; then the whole thing caught ablaze.

The pages curled, turned from faded yellow to red-hot to ash, the spidery black words of unknown spells appearing for an instant, then gone again as the fire consumed them. Within minutes, the book was nothing but a pile of ash, dotted here and there with the glow of dying embers. The smoke curled lazily up into the dark sky…

_Ben…_

He'd saved her life. _Why? _Afterward, as she sat still and silent, she'd heard the others offering theories, surmising this or that. She hadn't really been listening. In her mind, fragmented scenes played and replayed… the small scratches on Ben's palms. The look of relief on his face. The malicious red-orange glow of the flames. Someone—Daphne—had helped her up, walked her to their room at the hotel, gently wiped the soot off her face with a warm wet washcloth. Velma submitted to all this with the blank stare of a lobotomized patient. Daphne had put her to bed like a child, and Velma instantly fell into the deep blackness of a dreamless sleep.

The following morning, she'd greeted them all with a bright, cheerful smile. Everyone had seemed worried, but she waved away their questions, feigning excitement for the concert that night. She couldn't deal with the pity she saw in their eyes. The grief she felt was personal, and she wanted to deal with it alone.

"Velma?"

Daphne's voice jerked her back to the present. Velma turned, quickly wiping the tears from her face. Her glasses were still spotted with the evidence, and she hastily took them off and rubbed the lenses clean on her turtleneck.

Daphne stood looking at her, head tilted slightly, worry in her blue eyes. "Velma? You okay?"

Velma sniffled and forced the fake smile back onto her face. "Yeah." Aware of her red, puffy eyes, she lied, "Allergies. The flash powder. I just needed some fresh air."

It was a bad lie; anyone could see through it. Daphne's face softened with sympathy. Velma winced at what would come next: the questions, the forced hugs, the assurances that things do get better, that hearts heal, that not all men are pigs. Being told that Ben was a bad guy, that one good action didn't change that. The pity that she'd already come to despise.

Daphne surprised her by breaking into a bright grin. "Okay!" She winked. "Just come back when you're feeling better. We're all waiting for you!"

Velma stared at her in blank shock. Daphne knew she was lying; that smile was as false as her own. She was giving Velma what she wanted: space to work through her pain alone.

After a moment, Velma recovered. "Thanks, Daphne." She gave a small smile… a real one this time.

Daphne returned it with a real smile of her own. She said softly, "Anytime, Velms." Daphne hardly ever used her pet name; it felt warm, like a cup of hot tea on a rainy afternoon. Without another word, Daphne disappeared back into the bright lights on the other side of the stage.

Velma glanced at her hand, and saw that her fingernails, short and well-trimmed, had still managed to leave deep marks in the flesh of her palms, tiny half-moons. Her legs gave way, and she crumpled ungracefully to her knees. _Why? Why did he save me?_

She could never ask him. He was gone.

She knew he'd tricked her and betrayed her. She knew that everything he'd ever told her, every moment of warmth she'd thought they'd shared, was a lie. She_ wanted_ to be glad to be rid of him.

She kept going back to those tiny scratches on his palms, where the dirt and rocks had scraped the skin. To the burn marks on his jacket. To the evidence that he'd put her first—and he'd died because of it.

_WHY?_

Slow, steady tears started coursing warm tracks down her cheeks again. She choked back a sob, then another.

_Broken, _she thought. _I'm broken._

Unable to fight the tears any longer, she took off her glasses, laid them carefully on the dead October grass, and sobbed, the noise of the concert in her ears. The bright lights, the music, the happy cheers of the crowd; it was just on the other side of the stage, but it might as well have been a world away.

_Broken… _the word echoed through her brain, like a dismal chant to some forbidden ritual, or the solemn drumbeat of a funeral march. _Broken broken broken…_

_Broken._


End file.
